We all have those days, don't we? Where it's just an overall crappy day, and nothing seems to go right, and you hear a constant woe is me! ringing through your mind on repeat, making it into a demented sort of rhythm. Of course, after said crappy day is finished being crappy, you must blog about it immediately.
Well, this post is a bit different.
I can't say this day has been crappy at all, because I was able to get some shopping done, have an adventure with Ryan on the way to Fresh & Easy in the form of a HUGE HABOOB and MAJOR RAIN, take a walk in the rain with Savannah and Lincoln, and I finally got my free book from the library. So, in actuality, it was a really very GOOD day. But all good things must come to an end. What goes up, must come down. What goes in, must come out. (Remember that last one- I am, how you say, foreshadowing.) After making a particularly spicy batch of jalapeno poppers, Geneal beckoned me into our bedroom to discuss some ideas for a wedding photo shoot we're planning soon. Don't worry, Geneal ins't engaged- we're just doing a fake bridal shoot for the fun of it. (Wanna join? That would be totally wicked! Text me. We'll plan it. And maybe get Jamba Juice afterwards.)
Anyway, we were in our bedroom, and I was just about to sit on our window seat, when squish! My foot made contact with something wet and squishy. I lifted my foot, and, to my horror, there was something brown ALL OVER MY HEEL. I could hear the theme from "Psycho" begin playing somewhere in the background as I looked to my floor, and beheld a big, slimy pile of excrement all over the floor. Geneal immediately started crying and apologizing, explaining how she simply couldn't make it out of the bedroom in time.... I'm just kidding. Gotcha! Geneal wouldn't doo (HA!) that.
I immediately knew the culprit.
GOTCHA AGAIN! Seriously, folks, you have got to be less gullible! My sisters are WAY too smart to doo (Ha HA!) something as hideously repulsive as go poo-poo on my carpet.
In reality, my adorable, furry, hyper little ball of mutt, Chickie, had painstakingly created that little meadow muffin and presented it right there for the world (or just my foot) to see. So after the required looks of shock and disgust, I made my stinky way to the bathroom to wash off the offending dung still clinging to my foot. While washing myself off (I had JUST gotten out of the shower twenty minutes ago), my beautiful, kind, and iron-stomached mother came into my room and graciously cleaned it right up. So, in the end, my room ended as poo-free as the day we moved in, but memories never die. The Ghost of Poopies Past will still linger in my room forevermore, reminding me of the scarring experience.
So, in light of the fact that it's really not fair to swear revenge to a mere puppy, (I'm not like Captain Ahab, I promise. This is real life, and not a boring novel about a crazy man trying to gain revenge on an animal. [Because seriously dude? Let it go. Take some yoga or something and just chill out.]) I will simply write my dear dog a little letter:
My dearest, furriest Chickie-Pie,
I would like to thank you for the, er, unique gift you so kindly gave to me this evening. I can tell you meant it with every fiber in your being- or, should I say, your bowel. I know you put a lot of effort into it, and it was simply radiant with the warmth of your soul. A gift like this is something not many people get to receive from the comfort of their own bedroom, so thank you for being so thoughtful. It really made the experience more personal. However, my cute canine, this is a gift best received only once, so I must insist that you keep your sentiments to yourself from here on out.
Again, thank you for the experience.
So there is the long-winded version of my evening. I think a cleverly worded post is much better than:
:My dog took a dump in my room and I found it with my foot."
See? It tells the story, but doesn't give the details. So, you're welcome.